January Thaw
by Zeil
Summary: Guess what I went to see recently... Dark Knight, would you believe I'm not a Batman fan typically, damn Joker. Set through-out the movie though it will go slightly AU at points. Bruce/Harvey/Rachael to varying degrees, slash, but, nothing really scarring
1. Reactants

**A/N: Yeah I don't own Dark Knight- right now I'm not sure I even own passable writing. Gag**

**January Thaw**

**Chapter One**

_**Reactants**_

_There is nothing more difficult to take in hand, more perilous to conduct or more uncertain in its success than to take the lead in the introduction of a new order of things._

_Niccolo Machiavelli_

* * *

"So how're your nerves now Mr. Dent." Rachael teased, as they made their way into La Vie En Rose.

"Making a full recovery Miss. Dawes." He kids right back, following Rachael inside.

"Well Batman would be so proud of them." She grins.

"How many times a day do you have to torment me about the Batman?" Actually, her constant friendly haranguing over how he idolizes Batman is one of the reasons he loves spending time with Rachael. Everything is so easy and fun.

"What's the count today?" She asked, as they were shown to their table. Harvey seats Rachael before moving around to his own chair.

"Took me three weeks to get this reservation. And I had to tell them that I work for the government." He says conversationally, they change topics frequently that way- with absolutely no segues.

"Really?" Rachael half-laughs.

"The city health inspector isn't afraid to pull strings." _Harvey- you idiot…_ She doesn't say it, but he can tell she's thinking just that, by the way she grins and shakes her head. He loves that about her too. It's shaping up to a nice night already.

"Rachael- fancy that." Or not… Ironic that Harvey knows Bruce Wayne's voice anywhere considering he's never actually met him before now. Has only ever seen him once, on some news thing and has disliked him since.

Rachael knows how he feels and it's something they discuss often, Rachael playing Bruce's advocate very well. Not well enough to shift his opinion, even though he's quite willing to admit that it is not entirely fair, because to him Bruce Wayne will always be exactly what's wrong with Gotham. Wealth and power- gone to waste in the hands of morally retarded cretins.

"Yeah, Bruce… fancy that." There's something in her tone that suggests it's anything but a coincidence, but Harvey's always kind of figured they have history, so it's not so shocking really. Something in the way Rachael talks about the him- gives the impression that butter wouldn't melt in Bruce's smug mouth. Which is so different from the man Harvey sees that he knows history is clouding her judgment. He's mostly okay with it.

Mostly… usually… the man did irritate him long before Rachael was ever added to the mix.

Harvey tunes out the introductions- not intentionally; he just kind of drifts off for a second somehow… drifts and snaps back when Bruce's attention suddenly shifts to him. Hopes to god that he hasn't just been asked a question.

"Bruce…" No, he's just been insulted, he can tell by Rachael's tone, Bruce's expression, apologetic- but not really.

"This is Harvey Dent." Harvey wonders briefly if the bubble-headed bimbo, playboy even knows who he is. Probably not.

"The famous Bruce Wayne." Harvey offers his hand and fights the urge to twist Bruce's thumb or anything else just as childish.

"Rachael's told me everything about you." He says, because he has to say something.

"Well I certainly hope not." The way he says it- all smooth tone and slick grin and Harvey has the overwhelming urge to inform Bruce that he isn't some ample breasted, addled brained heiress that he's trying to get into the pants of and- that in mind- Bruce doesn't come off as charming to him, just cheesy.

"So, let's put a couple of tables together." _Oh god no._

"I'm not sure that they'll let us–"

"Oh, they should, I own the place." Harvey wonders vaguely if jumping across the table and strangling dear old 'Bruce' would ruin their evening anyhow. Probably, and he might stain the new tie Rachael just gave him. _Damn shoddy wardrobe choices._

-.-.-

Bruce and Rachael have history- a lot of it and Bruce apparently is anxious to ram as much of it down his and Natalia's… no Natasha's throats as possible. Though Harvey gets the distinct impression that Natasha, he's about 80 sure that that's her name, is merely unfortunate collateral. She doesn't seem too bothered by it though, actually, if she notices anything a miss at all then she's a better actress than most and certainly a lot smarter than Harvey's given her credit for. She smiles, big and wide and perfectly genuine-looking every time Bruce pulls out another of his 'when we were kids' stories, perfectly attentive, even throwing in an 'oh, how adorable' and 'Bruce you are so sweet' occasionally. Harvey mostly just stares at him and wonders if it would really feel 'that good' to dig sweet 'Brucie' with something sharp.

Dessert comes and goes, they're all nursing drinks by the time the conversation turns to something even remotely interesting… Harvey doesn't care how captivating and endearing everyone else may find Bruce's stories- they're boring and even if they hadn't been at the start, two hours would radically have changed that anyhow.

"How could you want to raise children in a city like this?" Natasha asks in response to one of Bruce's charming anecdotes.

"Well, I was raised here, and I turned out okay." _Matter of opinion…_ Harvey bites his tongue to keep from accidently saying it.

"Is Wayne Manor in the city limits?" It's a relatively innocuous question, so, since she glares at him across the table, he must be using that 'screw you' tone Rachael is always telling him he has. He laughs… no one else does and now- he's really starting to hate dear Brucie. Since, god, someone has too.

"Uh, the Palisades? Sure. You know as our knew DA, you might wanna figure out… where your jurisdiction ends." Okay, so he's a little impressed by that. Apparently, Bruce Wayne has a much subtler 'screw you' voice.

Harvey's beginning to understand why Rachael took the seat across from Natasha- too easy for he and Bruce to choke each other if they were sitting side by side.

"I'm talking about the _kind_ of city that idolizes a masked vigilante."

"Gotham City is proud of an ordinary citizen standing up for what's right." He says and hopes he doesn't sound like some starry-eyed schoolboy.

"Gotham needs heroes like you, and elected officials, not a man who thinks he's above the law–" In his more optimistic moments, Harvey actually believes just that and maybe one day that'll be the case. But not right now, right now Batman is more important than he'll ever be.

"Exactly. Who appointed The Batman?" _Shallow and blasé… Spoken like a true socialite Mr. Wayne bravo._ It makes Harvey wonder when exactly it was that Bruce even glanced down from the champagne-lined clouds at all the normal people in Gotham. The ones who actually suffered.

"We did, all of us who stood by and let scum take control of our City." Typically, he doesn't care enough to seriously defend Batman. People will believe what they want to anyway and Batman's actions defend him better than Harvey ever could. But a blatant waste of space like Bruce doing the questioning… it pisses him off.

"But this is a democracy, Harvey." _And the titanic wasn't sinkable._

"When their enemies where at the gates, the Romans would suspend the democracy and appoint one man to protect the City. It wasn't considered an honor; it was considered a public service." It sounds good- and he believes some of it, but honestly, he doesn't really understand what would prompt anyone to try to do what Batman did.

This city a year ago… he couldn't have taken on something like that. He isn't strong enough. Not alone. He couldn't even do what he's doing now alone, he needs Rachael, needs the office full of people he works with… he needs Batman…

"Harvey, the last man that they appointed to protect the republic was named Caesar, and he never gave up his power." Oh god, he is starting to sound starry-eyed he can tell by her tone.

"Okay, fine. You either die a hero, or you _live_ long enough to see yourself become the villain." Bruce is staring at him now, like he's a moron, which is in keeping with the theme of the evening, irritating. As if he should care, what a man like Bruce thinks of him.

-.-.-

"Look, whoever The Batman is, he doesn't want to do this the rest of his life, how could he? Batman is looking for someone to take up his mantel." He crashed Rachael's date to see if Harvey Dent really is wholesome as he looks and Bruce guesses he has his answer. Gotham's White Knight… and his own.

"Someone like you, Mr. Dent?" Natasha questions casually and Harvey might actually be blushing. _Who still blushes when they're in their 30's?_

"Maybe. If I'm up to it." He sounds so endearingly unsure and Bruce can certainly understand Rachael's attraction, which isn't necessarily a good thing. He understands by sharing in it, which is potentially disastrous, not to mention completely ridiculous. That Dent should accomplish in seconds what took Rachael years, or maybe he'd loved her at first sight too and just prefers to remember it being otherwise.

"What if Harvey Dent is the caped-crusader?" _Definitely blushing._ Dent shook his head.

"If I was sneaking out every night…" His hand slides into Rachael's and Bruce should hate him for being able to do that.

"Someone would've notice by now." But he doesn't, he likes the man, for some reason or another.

Bruce wonders fancifully if someone upstairs, (if there really is an upstairs) is laughing at him right now. Since honestly, who actually suffers 'love at first sight'.

It isn't exactly first sight though, he'd started studying Dent the moment he'd taken the job as Gotham's new DA. It's something about the man's eyes, real, bright, actually looking at him, which is just as big a cliché really.

_It doesn't matter…_ and it doesn't. Hero-worship; love, an impending metal breakdown. Whatever it is that causes the same ache in him whenever Harvey looks at him, as when Rachael does. Doesn't matter, because it isn't part of his plans.


	2. Isomerization

**A/N: Thanks to anyone who gave this a go and to anyone who reviewed, it's always good to hear that i'm wrong about my fics. Thanks guys.  
**

**Chapter Two**

_**Isomerization**_

_All changes, even the most longed for, have their melancholy; for what we leave behind us is a part of ourselves; we must die to one life before we can enter another._

_Anatole France_

* * *

Harvey swiped a hand over his forehead; sweat trickling down from his damp hair, the dark felt damn near suffocating it was so hot. It really should've been jacket and scarf whether this time of year, but regular seasons hardly seemed to matter when in Gotham

As appalling as it sounded Harvey was actually glad Rachael had decided to sleep at her own apartment; it was hot enough sleeping by himself. Besides, at least at her own place she could turn the air-con on full and not feel guilty about it.

Harvey didn't have that luxury; something about sleeping in artificially cooled air always gave him migraines. He tried to avoid the painful damn things in general, even when he did have the time to lock himself in a dark room with lots of wonderful painkillers, which frankly, only ever dulled the pain enough to keep him from clawing out his own eyes. As fun as that all was though, he didn't have the time anyhow. Not with Lau and the mob…

Of course, the real question was- would he be any better off going without sleep for however long the heat wave lasted. He'd already spent last night staring at his apartment ceiling, counting dots that weren't really there and considering it was passed two now and he was still counting the interwoven threads on his pillow, things weren't looking any better for tonight.

Sweat ran, in a lazy bead, down his back, catching the sparse breeze drifting in his wide-gaping window, making him shiver when it cooled and hit his spine, settling in the hallow at the base of his back. Harvey sighed, turned over to stare once more at the ceiling, and wondered if he should give up, get up, and do something useful with his time. He could at least sit in the cool that way, so long as he didn't fall asleep in his chair, he'd be fine.

Harvey brushed sweat-slicked hair from his face and sat up; about to kick the sheet off his legs and pull on clothes, when something foreign fluttered at the corner of his eye.

"Shit." He made an odd kind of squeaking noise in his throat before the word actually made it out. Embarrassing- but understandable under the circumstances he decided.

"Don't you knock?" Again, under the circumstances, there are probably a lot worse people to have turn up in his bedroom than the Batman.

"Actually… don't suppose you do." He mumbles, peering around the room, realizing the freakiest thing in all this is that, for the life of him he can't work out how the hell the Bat got in. Not without making some kind of noise, should at least have the decency to stomp or something, when breaking into decent people's homes.

"I need to know if I can trust you." The voice makes his stomach sink and for two seconds Harvey knows how the criminals feel when they're caught-out, only he isn't doing anything shady, shouldn't feel all- squirmy.

"You can." _Oh, that's a good one Harv, because if you weren't on the up and up you'd of course fess right up to it…_ Actually, he thinks he might, given their current positions. Funny that, the mob doesn't scare him, not one little bit. But the Batman does.

"I don't… know what you want…" He says, after not coming up with a better way to defend himself.

Sweat is trickling down his back again, which makes him wonder how the hell the Batman can function with all the layers of black covering him. Which, strangely leads to him wondering how much bulk the suit actually adds. _He has to be muscular underneath it all, to do what he does, but is he really that big, or… and Jesus talk about a pointless line of thought, Harvey._

"Look I can't…" He feels like a kid all over again, about to be scolded, which will possibly always be the worse feeling in the world for him and all because he's been caught trying to sleep naked by tall, dark and serious. How nervous this man can make him with a look is several different kinds or ridiculous.

"Do this… without a drink." Scotch… always makes everything go down easier. Harvey tosses his legs off the bed and stands, dropping back onto the mattress less than a second later, because, good god, he'd been trying to sleep naked

"Don't suppose you could turn around… for a second." _And my voice did not just shake…_

_Just throwing that out there hey Harv, you idiot, Batman didn't come here to check you out._

_Shut up._ The foreign voice at the back of his thoughts continued to laugh anyhow.

The Batman smiled- which was just terrifying really, made his heart flutter wildly.

"I trust you." He said, moving to stand in front of Harvey, who was absolutely not going to tug the sheet further across his waist.

"Well that's- good." He doesn't particularly feel any better about all this though.

Batman smiles again, grins even, which really is just alarming and Harvey actually feels sick.

Then gloved hands are on his cheeks and he's being kissed and oh- not actually feeling sick at all… aroused.

It's been such a long time since he last confused those two.

"Wait Rachael and I…" He pulls anyway to do the decent thing, despite his minds clear reasoning, that things like this don't actually happen so he might as well just enjoy it while it lasts. Then Batman kisses him again and does something fucking magic with his tongue and… Rachael who?

"Harvey." _Right that Rachael…_

"Harvey." _Wait…_

"Mr. Dent…" He grunts as Rachael shakes him awake.

"You're talking in your sleep again Harvey." She mumbles, turning away from him. He stares at his pillow for a minute before sitting up, disoriented… hadn't Batman just been… nope. It's not hot, it's jacket and scarf whether and he isn't alone with the Batman. Ironically, he's both relieved and disappointed.

"What'd I say?" It's definitely a sick feeling when he finally realizes what Rachael actually said.

"I don't know Harvey, strange mumbles… moans maybe." She sighs, still half-asleep, entirely asleep when he slides out of bed a second later.

Harvey moves out to the kitchen, sits at the table, and presses his thumbs against his eyes.

_Damn Batman._

_Damn Gordan._

_Damn dreams._

_Damn rooftop…_ Because it's everyone's fault but his own, that he's loosing his damn mind. Has been ever since the conversation with the Batman on Gordon's rooftop.

'_**You're a hard man to reach.'**_

He'd felt it the moment he'd actually come face to face with Batman, a jolt of realization down his spine that he'd passed off as shock at first. Gordon had shown up with a giant chip on his shoulder, so Harvey hadn't had a lot of time to consider it.

Later though- curled up with Rachael, his subconscious had conspired, had put him back on that rooftop, with all the time in the world.

Not that it had taken all that long… turning to find Batman real… really real, which, he'd always known of course, but knowing something and actually acknowledging it are completely different.

Excitement had washed through him. _**'You're a hard man to reach.'**_ Gordon hadn't interrupted that time around, and Harvey had been free to connect several dots.

Hard man to reach…

Not a symbol, not an icon, hope incarnate, or Gotham's second chance, which, Harvey had suddenly realized was how he'd always thought of the Batman.

In front of him though, tense muscles and body heat and slow, even breathes… close enough to touch and he's…

A man… and…

_Oh Christ, Batman has a cock…_ had been a shaky, silly thought, just a half-second behind the rest.

Harvey had woken up giggly madly; cheeks flushed red, heart racing… like he'd just discovered some big fucking secret. Like the rest of Gotham wasn't already aware that Batman was in fact, a man. He'd been thinking about little else since.

Harvey sighed, thumbs sliding from his eyes, stars starting to burst behind the lids. He picked up Rachael's discarded mobile and checked the time. The 5.15 glowing up at him annoyed him a little, because he hated being up any earlier than necessary, much to Rachael's displeasure.

_I don't even have damn migraines._ What a useless throwaway thought that was, Harvey frowned and spun Rachael phone on the countertop. _Dreams ain't reality Harv, you didn't have your cute little scars either, but I don't hear you complaining about that._ He'd smoked for two months when he was 15; that voice makes him want to take the habit right back up again.

"Alright Mr. Dent- spill it. What's on your mind?" Rachael yawned, padding into the kitchen, setting about making the morning coffee.

"Just… nightmares… the mob…" What else could he tell her? The truth? _Rachael you know all the jokes you make about me having a crush of Gotham's Dark Knight…_ Yeah, he could imagine how well that'd go down.

"Well maybe you can relax a little tonight at Bruce's party." She mumbled, rubbing each eye.

"That's tonight?" Someone upstairs- if there was one- hated him. Loathed him entirely it seemed.

"Yes Harvey and you're going- it's your fundraiser and frankly, you might not even see Bruce." _If there's a god in heaven._ Harvey thought snidely, since absence apparently didn't make the heart grow fonder, at least not in his and Bruce's case.

"Hey, you're not going to lose any limbs, tonight. I swear. I'll protect you." Rachael grinned, coming to stand behind him, placing a kiss on the back of his head, her arms over his shoulders, hands on his chest.

"I love you Rachael." It's not the first time he's said it, but it's the first time he's ever had ulterior motives. Some part of him hopes that the words alone will banish the Batman from his head.

"Hm- I know…" It works… Rachael dips her head and kisses him again and the lingering memory of dark eyes and demanding lips slides away. The engagement ring tucked away in his desk drawer is for Rachael and so is his heart, there's no place for Batman in his plans.

_Sure Harv, now close your eyes, click your heels together three times and just maybe Glenda will wave her magic wand and that cute little rant of yours will suddenly all be fact. But, on the off chance your dirty little dreams lead you right back to sucking Batman's cock… do us both a favor, don't blush like a little fucking girl, kay? Super._


	3. Endothermic

**Chapter Three**

_**Endothermic**_

_What if a demon were to creep after you one night, in your loneliest loneliness, and say, 'This life which you live must be lived by you once again and innumerable times more; and every pain and joy and thought and sigh must come again to you, all in the same sequence. The eternal hourglass will again and again be turned and you with it, dust of the dust!' Would you throw yourself down and gnash your teeth and curse that demon? Or would you answer, 'Never have I heard anything more divine'?_

_Friedrich Nietzsche

* * *

_

She leaves him- she just leaves him… I'll protect you… and she leaves him. With socialites, so maybe- according to some people- he doesn't exactly need protecting per se. Harvey however likes to contend that those people have never seen a charity auction.

_Liquid courage…_ That's what Alfred calls it, something quite different comes to Harvey's mind though, _'drink this as quickly as possible and things won't seem quite so strange too you,'_ amen and usually he would never anaesthetize himself with alcohol, that was his father's bag. Since he has yet to see one 'usual' thing in this menagerie Bruce Wayne dubs a party though, he figures a little alcohol can't hurt- as quickly as he possibly can- and he'll stop just as soon as he spots one normal, average everyday thing; or when he starts to get dizzy.

He doesn't even manage a sip. The grating sound of a helicopter distracts him, Bruce Wayne of course and Harvey wonders briefly if maybe he should've started drinking in the elevator.

He just doesn't like the man, because he flirts with Rachael and assumes everyone's time is his own and… actually, he's not really sure what his problem is with dear old Bruce. Yes the man has a plethora of annoying qualities he could easily pin his discomfort on but truth be told, he's real problem is that there's just something not on the level about Bruce. Harvey can't put a finger on it but he sure as hell can feel it and it needles him. Rachael's reaction to his theory needles him too, she'd laughed, not derisively or cruelly, just light and teasing and it frustrates him because it makes him wonder if she doesn't know what he's talking about. What it is.

"Sorry, I'm late- glad to see you all got started without me." The man wonders in with a model or a movie star on each arm, all sweet words and smiles and Harvey still wants to dig him with some sharp, or something else as equally painfully and petty. It doesn't help that everyone… everyone else in the room seems to love him, seems to be hanging, waiting on his words with baited breathed.

"Now where is Harvey… where… Harvey Dent- man of the hour." He smiles politely while Bruce performs for the rest of the crowd and wonders all the while if the third model or movie star is just in case one of the other two miraculously develops a few brain cells in the next few hours.

"And where's Rachel Dawes- she is my oldest friend. When she first told me she was dating Harvey Dent, I had one thing to say... the guy from those god-awful campaign commercials? 'I Believe in Harvey Dent.' Nice slogan, Harvey." Bruce fast sends him from angry to embarrassed with those few choice words. Anger, when Bruce brings up his friendship with Rachael, again and Harvey isn't a jealous person, he's not, but Bruce's tone always seems to imply something more, something Rachael won't talk about.

Then Bruce teases him, a cheap shot about his election campaign and he's heard it before, he really has, all the jokes, so many times that he'd thought they'd really lost all meaning to him, but some how Bruce's tone, his smile… Rachael's pained expression, he flushes, bows his head for a moment to hide it.

"But he caught Rachel's attention and then I started to pay attention to Harvey, and all he's been doing as our new D.A., and you know what? I believe in Harvey Dent." Just as quick, he's confused again and it's that thing that he can't quite define. Bruce seems so honest suddenly, so earnest- no barely veiled flirting towards Rachael, no cheap taunts too him… Harvey doesn't get it.

"On his watch, Gotham can feel a little safer, a little more optimistic. Look at this face; this is the face of Gotham's bright future. To Harvey Dent let's hear it for him." He can't reconcile this Bruce with the one that stole the Russian ballet only a few weeks ago, with the one who teased him about his ad campaign commercials only a few minutes ago.

Rachael takes his arm then, rubs his back and is so not forgiven for leaving him. She smiles when he looks at her and kisses his cheek and yeah… he forgives her.

Not for long though, she introduces him to senator what's-his-name and disappears again. Damn her.

He finds her later (after a very short conversation with Senator what's-his-names wife) out on the veranda with Bruce, things between them seem awkward and tense, Harvey's decides right then that he doesn't wanna know. What they've had or could have it's not his business. Besides he can hardly hold Rachael's possible 'what if' fantasy life with Bruce Wayne against her when he's got one of his own going with The Batman.

"You can throw a party, Wayne, I'll give you that. Thanks again. Mind if I borrow Rachel?" Neither answers- Rachael just moves off inside with him.

He leads her away from the party- away from the glitter and glitz. They tease each other some more and he sort of proposes. He's thought of a thousand different ways he could do it- funny, serious, sappy… This he didn't plan though- he doesn't even have the ring with him- and it comes out raw and honest. He really couldn't stand too loose her. She makes him laugh, she gets him. Knows markedly more about him than anyone else anywhere and she loves him, she does. Traces gentle fingers over his scars whenever he wakes in a cold sweat from a nightmare.

Her answer or lack thereof, rips his heart out, or at least a part of him reasons that it should, same part that murmurs about weak knees and a fluttering stomach. He doesn't believe that stuff though- aching heart, gazing longingly out the window, can't eat- can't sleep… that's the stuff for kid's books. The numbing, nerve-wracking, sickening fear he'd felt when the fake Batman had crashed into Garcia's window comes suddenly to mind. _Oh that's helpful,_ he thinks derisively.

"I suppose no answer's not 'no'. It's someone else, isn't it?" He says reasonably.

"Harvey-" Her tone says 'no stop being silly' but her expression's another story entirely.

"Just tell me it's not Wayne." That, amusingly enough would actually annoy him. It's sensible though, reasonable, that he wouldn't mind being left for a better man. Right?

"The guy's a complete-" _Bubble-head_, maybe, part of him is starting to doubt it, regardless he doesn't get to finish anyhow, someone grabs him from behind.

Later- if he tells the story- maybe he'll swear that he at least managed to get a decent punch in. In reality though he vaguely catches Rachael's scandalised 'what're you doing?' and then it's lights out.

888

"Hey- Harvey?" Someone's bugging him- pressing something cold and wet against his face.

"Piss-off." Undignified for sure, but his head's pounding, throbbing- just like the good old days of his youth.

"Mr. Harvey Dent-" The tone, the words are very reminiscent of Rachael, but the voice is distinctly male.

"Too heavy a dose?" Another voice offers and Harvey's brain finally kicks in then and he wonders what the hell's going on. Actually frankly, he's more focused on the searing pain.

"He's fine. Sit up Harvey, drink this." He's on someone's couch, has downed half the glass of water pushed into his hands before he realises that the guy standing in front of him is Bruce Wayne.

Bruce Wayne's couch.

Party.

What the hell happened too him?

Bruce takes the empty glass and Harvey presses his palms against his eyes.

"My teeth hurt." He whines. Overall, his head hurts worse.

"Yes, takes these-" Pills, more water and Harvey leans his head back against the couch with a sigh.

A while after that, when his heads stopped drumming in time with his heartbeat, he sits back up.

"What happened?" He mumbles when he opens his eyes and finds Bruce right there again… or was he simply sitting there the whole time.

"Alfred found you locked in one of my closets. Any ideas?"

"He did?" He remembers that- remembers talking to Rachael and being grabbed- kind of, sort of.

"The Joker gatecrashed; maybe one of his men locked you up." Bruce's voice is soft, soothing, his headache's duller now, grating still, but he doesn't quite feel so much like dying.

"Joker… is everyone okay?"

"Rachael's shook up, but she's fine, she's with Gordon shorting paperwork out." Rachael is exactly what he meant when he said everyone.

"Teeth still hurt?"

"No- they're all better… my head is still a little..." Wonky. Harvey presses himself back against the corner of the lounge, watches Bruce laugh softly before standing, moving to a small side table where he filled a pair of tumblers.

"Here drink this and it won't seem so bad." Bruce said, Harvey watching his progress back around the lounge. He takes the glass, smells scotch, really good, really expensive scotch.

"What did you give me before?" He asks, looking down at the amber liquid, already feels a little fuzzy from the pills. Bruce grins, takes the free lounge corner next to Harvey, wide white cushion between them.

"Don't worry Harvey I won't try'en take advantage of you." He taunts, Harvey snorts.

"Jesus-" He mumbles before taking a sip.

"You're a… something Wayne you know that." Okay not exactly the most scathing or coherent thing that's ever left his mouth. Bruce laughs.

"A bastard… a charming bastard?"

"The first one." He says and Bruce frowns, sets his glass aside.

"You don't like me much, do you?" Maybe it's the alcohol and pills talking, but it doesn't sound like much of a question to Harvey.

"I don't like you at all." Rachael's not there- no reason to be polite, except for maybe decorum and stuff- but that's more Bruce's department right? At any rate Bruce doesn't much seem worried.

"Why not?" Bruce asks, staring in a way that would probably normally make him self-conscious… reminds him of something, something… he couldn't quite get, the alcohol's hit; hard.

"Because you're a-" _Just shut up Harvey, please!_

"A snob and a flirt and-" He sets an almost empty tumbler heavily onto the coffee table and when did he have more than a sip?

"You make me really uncomfortable." He does- why does he- it's not fair that he does.

"I do?" Bruce's tone is light- curious, Harvey doesn't appreciate it.

"Yes. You stare at me when you think I'm not paying attention and, you and Rachael talk to each other like you know something I don't and I notice and… what did you do too Rachael?" He's never been comfortable drunk. He's one of those people who's knows when they are, feels like every second he's making a complete fool of himself.

"I never did anything to Rachael." Bruce just sounds bemused.

"Yes you did- she loves you and would clearly be with you if you hadn't done something to her." Clearly… and does he really believe that? Apparently yes he does, if his babbling is anything to go by and typically it is, he's one those annoying people who gets honest when they're drunk.

Bruce shakes his head, half smiles- half frowns, as if he doesn't know what to say.

"Wait let me guess you have supermodels reserved till 2012." He laughs and for two seconds it seems so funny and then…

"I'm sorry- that was- really rude." Why was it ever funny?

"No- that's fair, I have a very… shallow lifestyle. But Rachael and I… it's much more complicated than that Harvey."

"I'll bet." He mumbles. His head doesn't hurt anymore and his lips are tingling.

"What is it with you anyway?" Harvey asks, picks his discarded cup up and drains it, which probably isn't a good idea but he's not really sober enough to make those kinds of judgement calls anyhow.

"What do you mean?" Bruce asks, sets his own glass aside, is still all cool and collected, prefect hair, perfect suit, not a single crease. Harvey doesn't even want to contemplate how he looks after the night he's had. God he hates Bruce Wayne.

"Come on you play at being this-" The sentence stalls; Harvey knows the word but just can't quite get on his tongue.

"Sorry I can't help I've been called a lot of things- alcohol soaked, playboy, socialite, bastard most recently…" Bruce still has that airy, playful demeanour in place, like everything's all a joke, which annoys Harvey and that annoys him too, perfect strangers shouldn't know how to press his buttons.

"Perfect ditz." He snaps finally.

"You act like you have no clue what's going on and no interest in anything outside of your next glass of champagne."

"That's a crime?"

"It's bullshit. You're not stupid and you're not clueless. I've seen you're school transcripts, the non-profit research your company does… all the funding you front for city improvements… the makeover Gotham's Library got last year… all you." God, where is Rachael when he really needs to be shut-up. It's been nagging at him for ages now though and it's ironic since he loves, absolutely loves classing Bruce as a waste of space, but the more he digs the less that fluffy public image meshes with the man.

"Checking up on me Mr. Dent?"

"You're very close to Rachael."

"Well the thing is… good publicities priceless." Bruce leans close and whispers it like some kind of conspiracy theory. Smiling and teasing- Harvey's not buying it anymore.

"You don't get any publicity from a lot of the stuff you do. In fact you seem to go to pains to hide some of it." Harvey leans in as well- copy's Bruce's tone. The man just grins.

"Okay, you got me… I hate good publicity."

"Where did you disappear too?" Harvey finally asks- bluntly- he's tired of the messing about, finds it hard enough keeping his head straight without Bruce's sidestepping.

"Excuse me?"

"You disappeared for years, one of Wayne Enterprises CEO's had you legally declared dead, you almost lost everything… where the hell did you go?" Bruce is still smiling but seems a little uncertain as well.

"Asia." He says softly, after a long pause, it gives Harvey more questions than answers though.

"In Asia… touring brothels or… what?" He snaps, irritated by the answer, he's decided.

Bruce bites his bottom lip, considers Harvey at length.

"You first Mr. Dent, why law, why here?"

"What?"

"Come on Harvey you're not the only one who can invade someone's privacy. You had other options. You choose law, you worked for it- it's not something you fell into. You choose Gotham too, why?" Bruce says, tone light and encouraging.

Harvey drums his fingers on the couch's arm, the fabric's soft under his fingertips.

"How far did you dig?" He asks, supposes he can't really get snippy about it, considering.

"Pretty far." Bruce says tone unapologetic.

Harvey feels his face heat slightly, runs his tongue over his teeth and takes a breath to calm himself.

"So you know about my father… about how I spent most of my teen years with my aunt, my mother's sister." He says, voice kept perfectly calm. Bruce nods.

"Well there's not much more too it then that- I owe those cops and the court advocate who handled my case my life. That's it- I wanted to help other people the way they did me." Easy, simple… all behind him now.

"Why Asia?"

"I was in prison." Bruce says simply and again the lack of information drives Harvey crazy.

"For what?"

"Stealing." Bruce says, after beat and still more questions. In occurs to Harvey then- very faintly- that Bruce is probably lying to him, taunting him, seeing how far he can push it.

"Stealing what?"

"You would never believe it."

"I can believe a lot."

Bruce stares at him again, considers… something… for a long time.

"No- that's going to cost you again." Bruce says finally and Harvey huffs, chews on his tongue.

"What do you want to know?" He's pretty good at spotting lies, can't see anything lurking behind the placid honesty of Bruce's face. He also can't even hazard a guess as to why Bruce Wayne would be stealing anything. Curiosity piqued.

"Anything. Something that's not in any file."

Harvey curls his toes, wishes he didn't have shoes on, since digging his feet into carpet has always soothed him.

"My father- after he'd drunk and before he'd beat me- would take his lucky coin out-" Harvey pulls it from his pocket and tosses it to Bruce. Surely, a therapist would have a lot of colourful things to say about him carrying something like that around, but screw them, it too saved his life. What an irony, really.

"And he would tell me that if he flipped it and it came up tails, then I could go to bed, but if it was heads… well clearly I'd done something bad and needed to be punished. Because that was how it worked, god- my father was a little religious when he drank- but god he didn't let things happen to good little boys." Bruce turns the coin over in his hand, realises the ugly truth of it. Harvey watches him frown. Doesn't know why he's telling Bruce this of all things. Except that maybe he wants too shock the man, appal him. Rumple that perfect exterior if even just for a second.

"For years I sat in the corner of my room crying wondering what I'd done that was so horrible. Until I got sick of it, waited until he passed out and went and stole the damn thing and then I knew. It's all shit, there's no rhyme or reason, just what we make for ourselves." Easy, simple… doesn't matter anymore.

Bruce- to his credit- doesn't look shocked or appalled. He looks, well there's something there in his eyes, anger maybe, though Harvey's not sure why he would be.

"I stole from Wayne Enterprises." Bruce says, without acknowledging anything Harvey's just said.

Harvey snorts, rolls his eyes. Bruce is lying too him, nothing makes sense otherwise.

"I told you, you wouldn't believe it." Bruce says while handing back his coin.

"You went all the way to Asia, just to steal from your own company and then rotted in an Asian prison for half a decade or so… no it all makes perfect believable sense." Harvey sulks, half wants to punch Bruce when he gives a lazy smile.

Then the man unbuttons his shirt.

Harvey overall has a lot more scars, the bulk mostly on his back- simple math there, he use to curl into a ball- but Bruce has more than few of his own. More than a few really interesting looking ones. Harvey leans further forward, touches the nasty looking one on Bruce's hip. Doesn't much consider that technically he's groping the man. Probably shouldn't… or if he must, should at least ask first.

"Prison?" He asks. Bruce nods. Harvey still doesn't really believe it, a car accident or something maybe, but then what about the rest. It's an odd collection.

"What happened?" He wants the story, even if it's a lie.

Bruce has that look on his face. Harvey sighs.

"What do you want?"

Bruce doesn't say anything, just leans in- slightly, because there's not all that much room between them now- and it's one of those slow… things, that Harvey could stop if he wanted to. If he'd thought too… but he doesn't think too. Bruce kisses him and Harvey lets him.

Soft and warm.


End file.
